


guiltless

by Wildcard



Category: Thor (Movies)
Genre: M/M, Pseudo-Incest, Sibling Incest, noncon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-15
Updated: 2018-04-15
Packaged: 2019-04-23 05:22:01
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,030
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14325513
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wildcard/pseuds/Wildcard
Summary: Captive of war Thor needs to learn his place. Loki is happy to teach it to him.





	guiltless

**Author's Note:**

  * For [days4daisy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/days4daisy/gifts).



> I AM SO SORRY THIS GOT UPLOADED LATE. My laptop decided to die yesterday and since it was the New Year down in South Asia, all the shops/service centers were closed. I hope it being a little late won't detract from your enjoyment.

It’s such a pretty picture that half the Jotun court is murmuring approval as they watch. Pampered spoiled prince Thor is down on his knees, Loki's hands in his hair making frost cling to Thors locks as he wrenches at Thor's hair. The crown's jammed down on Thor's head. Because that's the point, that's what makes this okay, Thor is that prince.

It's all about control, all about power. The prince, on his knees, using those lips on the Prince of Jotun?

It tickles at Loki's fancy, touches on that streak of sadistic mirth that never seemed to be satisfied. The prince wasn't so tough. Just another pampered noble with too-smooth skin and not enough bite to go with his fucking bark.

It's that aspect, in particular, that's getting him off on this.

There are scars under the clothes but it's not like Loki's bothered undressing Thor. The clothes are part of the fun, all that finery.. Fine silk, hand-embroidered. Does the prince even know who went blind sewing those tiny stitches? 

And that metal... Loki's armor is peerless and enchanted but the prince's armor is the best that money can buy. Jointed perfectly, beautifully, flawless as the prince's mouth. Thor, so warm and wounded, is still as pretty as doll. And just as fearsome. What right does he have to sit on the throne? He'll be nothing but a puppet.

And his siblings? The rest of the royal family? They were laughable. Jotunheim would rule them as easily as Loki was ruling Thor. It's actually a small mercy that he'd not stripped Thor of his armor and his clothes, that he'd allowed the prince the dignity of having something on.

His icy fingers grip tightly around a fistful of the other's hair and he just wants to see Thor falter, see him undone and shamed and humbled. But the little prince was still so proud, so unbending.

Tears would look beautiful on those eyes.

The prince is far too good at this, really. Must've done it before. Does anyone know? It'd ruin the chance of a royal union. Can't have their precious princesses married off to someone that can't even beget more royals on them.

Perhaps Loki will have a painting made of this moment so he can commemorate it. His handsome pet will tend to him in the future many times but this first time with the whole court watching? Special. 

Thor is a piece of work, comparable to the masterpiece of a master craftsman. 

"You're just a perfect little princeling, aren't you?" Loki pulls Thor off roughly, laughing despite the fact that his body's protesting to the loss of friction.

Thor coughs, doesn't gag. He glares up at him, defiant and fearless. There's spit smeared over his lips and they're bruised pink and red, looking as luscious as fresh strawberries. One hit could split them open and spill that royal blood.

"I try." The words are rough but the prince still speaks in that regal, accented way, like he's passing judgment on Loki. I try. You don't try hard enough. Nothing you try will break me.

Thor's been trained to keep his eyes flat, his expression unchanged. He's had to spend many hours just standing by his father’s side and watching as Odin made the decisions that would affect the kingdom. Learning how to project, to remove the smooth mask and replace it with another that would inspire trust in him? That came later.

"Royal responsibility demands we always try our best." The art of hostage negotiation is one he covered in his classes but it was always supposed to be hostages far away. It was never supposed to be his own safety he bargained for.

"Of course, of course,” Loki jeers genially. “And who do you think will play your white knight today, hm?"

"I don't need anyone to play my white knight. I am a knight in my own right."

"The standards for knighthood must be slipping," Loki could not help but quip. An appreciative rumble of laughter sounds from the court. 

"On the contrary. All knights must be men of honor." The twist of Thor's lips is scornful, sharp and angry like metal melted wrong, useless for any weapon but sharp-edged everywhere, too dangerous to touch. "Again, something that you would know nothing about."

That was likely the difference between him and Thor. Damn all of those who detracted his actions, who would expect him to conform to their opinions. 

"Honor is worthless in the world, princeling." He wants to brand Thor, wants to put a sign where all can see that their perfect little prince wasn't so perfect. Later, perhaps. Cold can burn just as effectively as heat. An ice burn on that stubbled cheek or over those full mouths will be striking indeed. 

For now, though, he grabs those golden locks of hair and thrusts hard into Thor’s mouth once more. The iron ring that keeps Thor’s mouth open is enchanted against his strength and cool against Loki’s cock as he drives into the Prince of Asgard’s wet mouth. Those pretty blue eyes still glare up at Loki, refusing to give in, and the hate in them only urges Loki to greater violence.

Thor’s mouth is so hot, so welcoming, against the cold of Loki’s length. If anything could melt a Jotun, surely it would be the bodies of the Asgardians. A thin blue rime forms over the corners of Thor’s mouth, cracking and reforming as Loki uses him mercilessly, and paints his lips the nearly clear blue of winter ice.

The exhaled huffs of breath hang in the air like steam, white clouds that halo the prince’s head, and Loki smiles down at him unpleasantly as he thrusts one final time and pulls out just in time to paint the prince’s face with ice.

When he lets go of Thor’s head, the prince slumps, hands coming forwards to support himself against the icy ground. Other members of the court approach but Loki waves them off with a sharp gesture.

“No,” he purrs, looping a strand of Thor’s sunshine hair around his fingers. “I am keeping this one for my exclusive use.”


End file.
